shall we now have done? _borgia_, (_enraged_.)both woundedyet both living! _concini_.what avails the blood i have drawn, while a drop remains. _borgia_.o! were i but beside thee! _enter_ vitry, _followed by the guards walking slowly. he holds the young_ count de la pene _by the hand; the boy leads his sister_. _vitry_, (_a pistol in his hand_.)well, my child, which is your father? _count de la pene_.oh! protect him, sir,that is he leaning against the pillar. _vitry_, (_aloud_.)draw tipremain at that gateguards! (_the guards advance with lanterns and flambeaux_.) sir, i arrest youyour sword. _concini_, (_thrusting at him_.)take it. (vitry _fires his pistol_du hallier, dornano, _and_ person _fire at the same time_concini _falls dead_.) the malice of du luynes, the inveterate enemy of the dancres, and afterwards the minion of louis, contrives that the maréchale, in her way to execution, shall be conducted to this scene, where her husband lies dead, on the spot which had been stained with the blood of henry, like caesar at the foot of pompeys statue; and the play concludes with her indignant and animated denunciation of this wretch, who stands calm and triumphant, while the maréchale exacts from her son, over the body of concini, an oath of vengeance against the destroyer of her house. the martyr-student. i am sick of the bird, and its carol of glee; it brings the voices heard in boyhood back to me: our old village hall, our church upon the hill, and the mossy gatesall my darkend eyes fill. no more gladly leaping with the choir i go, my spirit is weeping oer her silver bow: from the golden quiver the arrows are gone, the wind from deaths river sounds in it alone! i sit alone and think in the silent room. i look up, and i shrink from the glimmering gloom. o, that the little one were here with her shout! o, that my sisters arm my neck were roundabout! i cannot read a book, my eyes are dim and weak; to every chair i look there is not one to speak! could i but sit once more upon that well-known chair, by my mother, as of yore, her hand upon my hair! my fathers eyes seeking, in trembling hope to trace if the south wind had been breaking the shadows from my face; how sweet to die away beside our mothers hearth, amid the balmy light that shone upon our birth! a wild and burning boy, i climb the mountains crest, the garland of my joy did leap upon my breast; a spirit walkd before me along the stormy night, the clouds melted oer me, the shadows turnd to light. among my matted locks the death-wind is blowing; i hear, like a mighty rush of plumes, the sea of darkness flowing! upon the summer air two wings are spreading wide; a shadow, like a pyramid, is sitting by my side! my mind was like a page of gold-wrought story, where the rapt eye might gaze on the tale of glory; but the rich painted words are waxing faint and old, the leaves have lost their light, the letters their gold! and memory glimmers on the pages i unrol, like the dim light creeping into an antique scroll. when the scribe is searching the writing pale and damp, at midnight, and the flame is dying in the lamp. _frasers magazine._ the selector; and literary notices of new works the italian republics. m.j.c.l. de sismondi, has, to suit the plan of the _cabinet cyclopaedia_, endeavoured to include in one of its volumesa summary of italian history from the fall of the roman empire to the end of the middle agea period of about six and a half centuries. what a succession of stirring scenes does this volume present; what fields of bloody action; what revelry of carnage; what schemes of petty ambition; what trampling on necks, what uncrowning of heads; what orgies of fire, sword, famine, and slaughter; what overtoppling of thrones, and unseating of rulers; what pantings after freedom; what slavery of passion; what sunny scenes of fortune to be shaded with melancholy pictures of desolation and decayare comprised in these few pages of the history of a comparatively small portion of the world for a short perioda narrow segment of the cycle of time. what sismondi so ably accomplished in sixteen volumes, he has here comprised in one. he tells us that he could sacrifice episodes and details without regret. the present is not, however, an abridgment of his great work, but an entirely new history, in which, with my eyes fixed solely on the free people of the several italian states, i have studied to portray their first deliverance, their heroism, and their misfortunes. we quote a few sketchy extracts. _last struggle of rome for liberty_. 1453. stefano porcari, a roman noble, willing to profit by the interregnum which preceded the nomination of nicholas v., to make the roman citizens demand the renewal and confirmation of their ancient rights and privileges, was denounced to the new pope as a dangerous person; and, so far from obtaining what he had hoped, he had the grief to see the citizens always more strictly excluded from any participation in public affairs. those were entrusted only to prelates, who, being prepared for it neither by their studies nor sentiments, suffered the administration to fall into the most shameful disorder. in an insurrection of the people in the piazza navona, arising from a quarrel, which began at a bull-fight, stefano porcari endeavoured to direct their attention to a more noble object, and turn this tumult to the advantage of liberty. the pope hastily indulged all the fancies of the people, with respect to their games or amusements; but firmly rejected all their serious demands, and exiled porcari to bologna. the latter hoped to obtain by conspiracy what he had failed to accomplish by insurrection. there were not less than 400 exiled roman citizens: he persuaded them all to join him, and appointed them a rendezvous at rome, for the 5th of january, 1453, in the house of his brother-in-law. having escaped the vigilance of the legate of bologna, he proceeded there himself, accompanied by 300 soldiers, whom he had enlisted in his service. the whole band was assembled on the night of the appointed 5th of january; and stefano porcari was haranguing them, to prepare them for the attack of the capitol,in which he reckoned on re-establishing the senate of the roman republic,when, his secret having been betrayed, the house was surrounded with troops, the doors suddenly forced, and the conspirators overcome by numbers before their arms had been distributed. next morning, the body of stefano porcari, with those of nine of his associates, were seen hanging from the battlements of the castle of st. angelo. in spite of their ardent entreaties, they had been denied confession and the sacrament. eight days later, the executions, after a mockery of law proceedings, were renewed, and continued in great numbers